The Good Old Days
by ChronicallyOwlish
Summary: At a fancy New Year's party, the crew of Andromeda reflects on their pasts and their hopes for the future. Trance/Harper, Beka/Tyr, Dylan Rommie Friendship. Trance/Harper, Beka/Tyr, and Dylan & Rommie Friendship.
1. Dylan

Sheltered Light

Sarah had loved New Years. The decorations especially, like those that lined the eves of this fancy ballroom. Lights twinkled and shimmered in time with the candles that adorned tables covered with pristine white cloths. She'd loved parties like this, too. Dress uniforms and fancy dresses. The fancier the better. He remembered their first New Years together, how she'd told him to pick her up at 1800 for the Officer's Ball on Tarn Vedra. At 1830 she finally glided down the stairs in flowing dress of blue and silver satin. Crystals had decorated her hair. Funny the details one remembered years later. He'd decided, then, he was going to marry her, though he wouldn't propose for another year.

It wasn't the same without her.

"Captain," a woman greeted as he moved past. She bowed her head gracefully and for a moment he searched her face. Was she one of Sarah's descendants. Something in the shape of her eyes reminded him of her. Or perhaps everything here reminded him of her. She'd founded this world so he'd find it three-hundred years later—so the Commonwealth would survive.

He nodded and continued on his way. Destination unknown. Despite the bittersweet memories, it was hard not to take in this scene. The beauty of it. A room decorated in white dusted evergreens and red flowers with holographic snow falling from the ceiling. The flakes danced around giant crystal chandeliers turned down low. He half expected to feel the cold kiss of them on his face, but they melted into nothingness before they hit.

Music drifted across the vast room from a live orchestra on the stage. Instead of an abundant buffet, chefs from across the Known Worlds practiced their culinary arts at station strategically placed beside fully stocked bars. Hundreds of people mingled, their voices a steady companion to the strings. It was hard to say what New Years had meant to the humans of Earth three-thousand years ago. Traditions had melded with other human holidays like Christmas, the Vedran Day of New Beginnings, and a dozen other similar holidays to become the festival it was today. The Vedrans had adopted it and given it a place on their calendar that corresponded with winter in the Capitol on Tarn Vedra. Some who celebrated kept the winter theme, like they'd decided to do here on Tarazed where it was winter, or in Boston where Harper grew up. Others modified it to match the climates of their worlds. The two things that remained the same no matter where New Years was celebrated were the fancy late night parties and toasts at midnight.

"This is impressive," Rommie said, coming up beside him. She'd foregone a gown in favor of a dress uniform to match his. It looked good on her. The small smile he'd worn most of the evening stretched wider. It was good to see a member of his crew. The Triumvirate had honored him with a place at the VIP table in a private banquet hall. It'd been equally, if not more lavishly appointed than this hall, but he'd been separated from those he cared about on a day meant to celebrate with them. No wonder he was thinking of Sara today.

"Ah, Rommie. Enjoying yourself?" He offered her a crooked arm and she took it. They fell into step.

"As far as people watching goes, it has been interesting. The Commonwealth has thrown a great many resources into this event."

"Well, it is their first event since Tarazed returned to the Known Worlds." Dylan motioned towards the exit. "They want to show the Universe what they have to offer. Smile for the cameras."

Rommie raised her brows and shifted her eyes. A reporter stood off to the side interviewing Senator Nigel Zinn, a former member of the Rigellan Congress who'd won his planet's vote for Commonwealth Senate with an unprecedented seventy-five percent of the popular vote. A good man and an even better politician. Dylan was glad the reporter had caught Nigel. He wasn't a fan of interviews. Right now, all he had to worry about were the news drones with facial recognition built in. Rommie tightened up her smile as the one Dylan had noticed when they stepped into the hall swept over for a clip. As quickly as it appeared, it was off again, looking for another face to plaster all over the evening news. He wasn't a fan of those either but it was important for the rest of the Universe to see this. A united front. A set of smiling faces. An image of hope, peace, and prosperity for the hurting people in this time to grasp onto. And wasn't that what New Years was really about? All across the Tri-Galaxies, at every hour of the day billions rang in the New Year in their timezones, hoping and praying for prosperity and better days.

"How are the others?" He led them down a sparkling hall of white lights that twinkled on and off at intervals. From a separate ballroom at the end of the hall a steady rhythm beat. The ghosts of strings and brass floated above the buzz of hushed conversation. A voice too, smooth baritone. Earth jazz. Not Dylan's first choice, but Harper would love it.

"I am uncertain of where Tyr and Beka are, but Trance and Harper have both imbibed questionable amounts of alcohol and have found their way to the dance floor."

"Somehow, I'm not surprised." His smile remained. They were having fun. He'd been worried; not for Trance who made the best out of every situation with a smile on her golden face but Harper who still found these formal events difficult after three years of them. But Harper couldn't resist free food and an open bar. Pretty women, either—thankfully he only had eyes for one these days. It reduced the risk of political incident to almost none. Almost.

A blast of brass hit as the doors to the ballroom slid open, the singer wishing them the happiest New Year. The room was draped in burgundy and gold. Real candles glowed on stand-up tables lining the walls. Bars stood in each corner with crudites and other hors d'oeuvre on one side of the room and an incredible assortment of desserts on the other. A pair of disco balls spun in sync, casting dancing lights on the ground. Like the snow across the hall, holographic glitter sparkled in the air and faded away before it touched ground.

This is where the party had moved, and at the center of it all, he found Trance and Harper swinging and swaying on the dance floor. It was hard to miss them and the frenetic energy they put off. Harper's feet moved to the music, stomping and kicking. Trance followed along. Kept time with ease. Graceful as always with her red satin skirt twisting around her legs as Harper threw her out by one arm and spun her back to him. Concentrated smiles graced both their faces. Together, they glowed.

"They seem to be staying out of trouble, at least," Dylan said and led Rommie deeper into the room, towards the bar. The song ended. Dylan clapped his hands with the crowd, larger in here than in the banquet hall, as the singer took a bow. Trance noticed them and waved. So young tonight. Vibrant and full of life. Beautiful and in love. Not at all like the hard, serious, woman who'd come back from the future to save Harper's life. To save all their lives.

"I was concerned about their relationship when it started," Rommie said in her matter-of-fact tone.

"And now?"

"I've concluded that they compliment each other. Love is an interesting organic phenomenon, but I believe it is mostly beneficial."

"Why Rommie, you're turning into quite the romantic." They pulled up to the bar. "Scotch please."

Glass in hand, he now led Rommie to an empty table near the dance floor. A single candle burned in a burgundy glass at the center. The scotch was smooth and burned pleasantly in his chest as it went down.

"Romance has its practical applications. Happiness and comfort being one of them." Logical words. Though the way her smile softened when the music picked up again and the happy couple began a slow dance told a different story. Rommie, too, loved her crew. A fierce, protective sort of love. A very human sort of love.

He let the music fill the space between them. A song about finding your love by moonlight in the city. He'd loved the holidays in the Human quarter of the Vedran capitol. The elaborate light shows put to music in his parent's neighborhood. Ice skating in the shopping centers. Gifts in delicate paper with ribbons tied around them. Champagne and kisses at midnight with the crackle and boom of colorful fireworks above them. The way shop windows had fogged up on the inside and glowed a warm yellow when he walked the streets at night beside Sara. It had always seemed so timeless. In those moments he'd felt solidarity with his human ancestors and the traditions that had carried on over thousands of years.

The warmth of the scotch spread through his belly and into his limbs. A pleasant sort of fuzziness that chiseled at the stress of spending hours in conversation with diplomats and politicians—a place most soldiers didn't like to be. The music wormed it's way inside. He watched as Trance leaned in and whispered something into Harper's ear. It earned her a smile and a quick kiss. They never missed a step.

Amazing how his crew had grown and changed. More amazing how that growth warmed him more than the scotch. More than a fire on a winter's night. Beka had thought that they'd rescued him from his three-hundred year slumber in a black hole. He'd thought that he'd rescued them. All along, they'd supported each other. Made a life out of scraps. Built a family from orphans and outcasts. Found love and friendship in the unlikeliest of places.

Though he missed Sara and the life he'd had before, tonight was not a night to dwell on what he'd lost. It was a celebration of the present and the future. Of all they'd accomplished. This society they'd brought back to life. He could dwell on the good old days, but it was a matter of perspective. One day, these would be the good old days.

No, tonight was a night to remember all he had, and the people he'd grown to love. To remember he had good friends, and one right across from him.

"Rommie," he asked, extending his arm again, "Would you care to dance?"

She took his arm with a smile and a nod as the song wound down to a vibration of horns in the air. Conversation picked up. He caught the eyes of a newer captain on him and the confused look of a senator. He could only imagine. Strange enough to bring his ship to a party. Even stranger to ask her to dance. He only hoped one day they'd understand what it was like to have a friend as close as Rommie. She was, after all, the very air that he breathed.

"Dylan!" Trance said with a smile and gave him a side hug before returning to Harper's side. Her eyes sparkled like her skin and there was a lovely flush to her cheeks. The dancing hadn't worn her down at all, but it had left Harper's brow glistening with sweat. But Harper, ever a fount of youthful energy, had hours left in him. He too smiled.

"Heya Boss. Rommie. Ready to tear up the dance floor?" Harper waggled a brow at Rommie, earning him an eye roll. The music started, an upbeat instrumental piece. He placed a hand on Rommie's waist and she clasped his other, upraised hand. Together, they danced.

5


	2. Beka

Tyr stood alone. It didn't surprise Beka but somewhere deep inside, it annoyed her. He'd come because it was required of him. These events bored him as much as they did her. All the fancy clothing and fancy music and fancy food. Okay, the food was nice—really nice. The rest of it might have been better if she were the drinking type. But she wasn't.

If Tyr were just going to sulk and brood anyway, he damn well could have done it with her.

Not that she was going to go over to him. She stared long and hard enough to get his attention, then moved to a table near the dance floor. Dylan and Rommie shuffled along in a graceful two step to some song that must have been at least two-thousand years old _._ They chatted as they danced, their words buried in the music. He spun Rommie and she didn't miss a step. Beka wondered if Harper had programmed dancing ability on purpose or if it was an old High Guard standard for stuffy events like these. At least Dylan was having fun.

Trance and Harper had been headed here earlier but she didn't—Familiar laughter bubbled up behind and a plate of powder crusted cookies and a steaming cup of coffee appeared before her. Trance's smiling face next, eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed.

"Brought you something to cheer you up," she said and flopped down on the seat beside her. Before Beka could ask where Harper had gotten to—or what trouble he was getting into without his built-in chaperon—he too showed with two drinks in hand. A large blue cocktail with a piece of fruit cut into a snowflake on the side went to Trance while Harper took an impressive gulp from a glass of some dark ale like Beka's father used to enjoy. Thick enough to chew, Ignacius used to say with a smile. Back when her father could do no wrong. The good old days.

"For a fancy dress party, this is pretty nice," Harper said with a smile that brought out the dimples in his cheeks and made him look like a boy. Especially since he'd lost the suit jacket he flew down in and loosened his tie to just the right amount of disheveled for this time of night. It brought her back to the first Salvager's Guild Winter Ball after she'd brought him aboard the Maru. He'd gorged himself on food and alcohol and had gotten in a fistfight with the Guild Master's future son-in-law over what Harper claimed was just an innocent dance. Likely story.

Beka hoped Dylan understood how lucky he was that Harper was mostly tame now. Mostly.

"Yeah, the food's great."

Okay, she could try to be a little more enthusiastic. This was what they'd been working for over the last three years. A restored Commonwealth; peace, joy, and happiness in the Universe. A united front against the Magog and the Abyss. She was happy. She was. She just didn't much care for politics or for these parties that reminded her of the dinners her father held to woo rich clients. She and Rafe had donned their fancy clothes and their best smiles. Perfect, well behaved Valentines. Not perfect enough, though. More often than not, those contracts fell through and Ignacius Valentine disappeared onto a Drift for a few days, returning to the Maru just to sleep.

As a child Beka had thought New Year's was a magical time where she could change her entire life if she wished hard enough on a star. New beginnings. New and wondrous adventures. At 42? That ship had flown through the slipstream and exited straight into the corona of that wishing star.

Trance's brow bunched up in the center now, her eyes on Beka, as if she understood. Beka wondered sometimes what her counterpart in the future must have told this older Trance during their years alone together. A lot, judging by the look in Trance's eyes.

"The cookies kind of melt in your mouth. They're amazing," Trance said after another moment of silence, face smoothing into another bright smile. Beka also wondered if, in moments like these, Trance ran through her possible futures before she chose her next move. Like Dylan observing his Go board. Prod, or leave it be? She'd chosen wisely to leave it be. Beka wasn't in the mood to bare her soul.

On stage, the band struck up a tune heavy on the horns. Harper bobbed his head to the quick beat, gave Beka an unreadable look, caught somewhere between duty and desire, then held his hand out to Trance.

"May I have this dance?"

Trance gave Beka a smile that said 'sorry' and took Harper's hand. They crossed over to the dance floor, leaving their drinks behind. Dylan and Rommie were no longer dancing, but another ship's Captain had drawn them into conversation across the hall. No company there. She turned her eyes back to Harper and Trance and wished they'd stayed a bit longer. She didn't blame them, though. They were young and in love and didn't need a grumpy third wheel hanging on.

God, she was getting old.

"What does he think he is going to accomplish," Tyr asked a moment later and her heart jumped into her throat at the unexpected boom of his voice.

"Excuse me?" Beka wrinkled her brow. "Who?"

"Harper." Tyr took the chair beside her and turned it around backward and sat with his legs splayed and arms folded across the back of the chair, dark eyes on the happy couple. "She's not human. We have no idea what she is."

Damn, she thought she was cynical. Old argument, though. They'd tread this ground plenty already, yet here they were again as if he didn't know how to read a map and figure out a different path to take with her.

"They've been going out for nearly six months, and you're just now bringing this up? I don't think he's out to accomplish anything. I think he's succeeded in finding someone who can not only put up with him but enjoys it. And, I think Harper knows more about what she is than we do."

Out on the dance floor, Harper had brought out some fancy footwork and Trance laughed as she looked on. He then took her hands again and flung her wide, her braids flying out behind her like the rays of a sun. Happy. Unaware—or maybe fully aware and uncaring—that someone else on the crew didn't understand or agree with their relationship.

"He's going to marry her." Deadpan. Matter of fact. It was a conclusion all of them had come to as the relationship between the two had grown stronger with each passing month. Through arguments and stony silences on Command; through more brushes with death than Beka wanted to count; through Harper's insecurities and Trance's secrets—somehow their friendship and love had come out on top. All of Harper's jokes about planets of adoring women couldn't hide that he was the marrying type. Of course, he was going to marry Trance if Trance was willing.

"Good for them," Beka said with a tone that she hoped would brook no argument. Trance and Harper were her crew—her family. Not even Tyr would threaten their happiness. Especially not with his Nietzschean BS.

"They can't have children together. What is in it for him?"

"Oh, I don't know. Love, companionship, that feeling that someone is always going to be there for you." She stood and looked him directly in the eyes. "Regular sex." Not that she was bitter or anything.

She turned and moved towards the door. Part of her didn't want to have this conversation. Not again. Not here. The other part dared him to follow and see it through to the end. Maybe she'd finally know where she stood where Tyr Anasazi and his god damn pride were concerned.

"I've offended you." He pulled in beside her in the hall just beyond the door.

"No, but I hope you don't plan on telling Harper you point-of-view. I think children are the last thing on their mind and if they do get married and you do anything but smile and wish them congratulations on their wedding night, you _will_ offend me." She caught his eyes again. "It isn't a good idea to do that."

Tyr's expression remained impassive save for a tiny, almost imperceptible rise of his brows. "I would imagine not."

Always so smooth and immovable. Would it kill him to show a bit of emotion?

The hall ended in a pair of intricate glass doors that led to the Senate Gardens. Beka pushed through and it was liking crossing the veil into a frigid wasteland Harper'd had the nerve to call a winter wonderland earlier, as if it were something to behold. Though, she had to admit, if it weren't so damn cold out, it might have been beautiful with snow piled up on tree branches and well-pruned shrubs. The entire scene glowed by the light of a single silver moon—like something out of a romance novel.

She had no destination in mind. No purpose in coming out here. Maybe she'd thought Tyr wouldn't follow. Maybe she'd hoped he would. He confused her. Angered her. All of his stubbornness and quiet judgments. Those abs so perfect and smooth she'd never wanted to touch anything more and full lips that practically begged her to kiss them—What did he think _he_ would achieve? He kept her balancing on the edge of a blade. Uncertain. Uncomfortable. She hated it. Enough was enough.

Beka stopped and turned around, satisfied that her sudden movement had thrown him off balance enough he stumbled over his feet. The recovery was quick. He drew himself to his full height and looked down on her as if he sensed the brewing storm.

"You know what, Tyr. I'm sick of this. I'm sick of your arguments and your philosophies and your god damn Nietzschean superiority." She took a deep breath, just getting started. "You think you have it all figured out. Spend your life making yourself the perfect specimen. Find a wife and hope you've built yourself up enough the Matriarch of her family approves. You know what you're missing out on?"

Tyr blinked.

"My—I—," he stuttered then started again. "Do enlighten me."

Something welled up inside, a sort of recklessness fed by his surprise. For once, she had the upper hand.

"Love, Tyr," she said with emphasis. "Passion too. Not everything in life has a purpose. Not every relationship is about having children. Life isn't about perfection. It's about finding what's perfect in the mess and you're just—blind. You're blind to what is right in front of you."

Was it the cold that took her breath away? Her lungs burned as she sucked in the icy air but she didn't feel the cold anymore. It was as if her insides had become a furnace hot enough to melt the snow. Fueled by that heat, she stood on her tip-toes and pressed her lips to his. They were as soft as she'd imagined. His body hard in contrast. The chill came back. Fire where he touched her, ice everywhere else. Goosebumps on her exposed neck and arms because she hadn't thought to grab her jacket.

There was spice in the air. Wine on his lips. He grunted and bent down to meet her. Circled his arms around her waist and held her against him so she could feel his heart pounding against her chest. He tried to take control, to dominate, but she bit his lip and continued at her pace, breathing him in, reveling in the feel of this forbidden moment.

Heart in her throat, she pulled away. Watched the emotions play on his face, one after the other before he smoothed them away. He held himself a little less certain now. His eyes searched her face as if her secrets might be read there.

"You know where to find me later," she said, took a deep breath to calm herself, and stepped away. Turned right around and walked back into the building, brushing passed couples and small groups heading outside for the midnight fireworks display. His gaze followed. She could feel it on her back. Inside now, warmth wrapped around her like a blanket. She leaned against the wall, laughed softly, and smiled. Giddy, like she'd gotten into the wine too. Maybe there was magic on New Year's Eve. Maybe there was such a thing as new beginnings.


	3. Harper

His feet hurt but not enough to stop him. Nothing could stop him tonight. On snowy nights in Boston he'd sat outside with his cousin, Brendan. If the snow was fresh enough, the sky would still be clear with the moon smiling down and stars twinkling. They'd talk about what was up there. Throw out the most ridiculous things they could think of. Tropical worlds entirely populated with bikini clad women. Nightsider casinos as big as the entire ghetto where one could make enough money to buy a ship. Places where you could stand and see billions of stars stretched out before you and nothing more. He'd wanted so badly to see those stars up close and told his cousin so. Brendan would never have believed how close he'd actually gotten. Harper hardly believed it himself.

"What was New Year's Eve like in Boston?" Trance asked as she slipped her arms into the coat he held out for her as if she could sense his train of thought. She buttoned her coat up and tied it around the waist as he slipped into his own and pulled gloves over his hands. Six months after learning she was the avatar of a star, he still didn't know if she actually needed a jacket. Didn't matter in the long run. She had several in the closet. She w

"Cold," he replied.

"No, really? What did you do?"

He took her gloved hand in his and set off towards the gardens. There was still time before the fireworks at midnight, but he had a specific vantage point in mind. One where they might be able to pass the time alone. Thanks to Trance's love of gardens, he knew every nook and cranny in this one.

"It was nothing like here. There weren't any fireworks or fancy parties. We did our best, though. Threw whatever we could into a bonfire and brought out the best home brew we could find. Everyone shared what food they had. It was—" He opened the door. The cold took him back and he could almost smell woodsmoke in the air and hear his cousin's laughter. "It was nice."

On his last New Year's Eve on Earth he'd kissed Nora Jenkins at midnight. Had taken her to bed after, too. When the sun rose over the snowy ground the next morning he'd still been awake. He'd sat outside her shanty-home bundled up in rags with a rough blanket wrapped around his shoulders and made a promise he wouldn't see another year dawn on Earth. He'd kept that promise.

Funny how the past seemed so fuzzy around the edges now. How he almost wished, against all logic, for those moments back. The laughter and fun. The good times… Trance squeezed his hand and brought him back to the present. Her low heels clicked on the paving stones, but the snow cover dampened the noise. He'd loved nights like these on Earth, too. Everything was softer and less harsh when covered in pillows of white.

A harder squeeze now and Trance stopped. He looked to her and then followed her gaze. In the middle of a pathway, under a tree wrapped with lights and decorated with delicate icicles, Beka and Tyr stood locked in a kiss so passionate Harper was shocked there wasn't steam coming off them. His mouth dropped open in a perfect mirror of Trance's expression. She caught his gaze, pressed a finger to her lips and then pointed down a different path. They shuffled off as quickly and quietly as they could.

Boy was tomorrow going to be interesting.

Far enough away that even if Tyr could hear he might not suspect they'd seen, Trance let out the giggle. A cute, girly thing, fueled by alcohol. While he didn't know if the cold affected her or not, there was no doubt wine did. She clutched her stomach and let it out, and he joined it. The laughter came from deep within and almost boomed in the silent night.

"I can't wait to see Dylan's face," she said when she'd caught her breath again.

"I think he's going to need a stiff drink. That one's gonna come as a shock. This next year is going to be interesting." More interesting than Trance knew…

He steered her down another path that led deeper into the gardens, towards the courtyard of winter roses she loves so much; blue and silver blossoms with delicate petals. They were the only flowers naturally hardy enough to withstand the below freezing temperatures of winter on this continent. She returned to the rose garden every time they visited. Different roses in bloom every season. Their fragrance reminded him of the oil she rubbed through her braids after washing them.

The garden was out of the way and not as popular as the showier courtyards where they'd strung up themed light displays for Christmas and had left them up through New Year's. He checked his chronometer. Those gardens were probably starting to fill up now as people filtered out for the fireworks. It was going to be one hell of a show.

Trance turned towards the rose garden without prompting. He let go of her hand so she could explore her first and truest love. She bent over a blue blossom as big as his hand and breathed in deeply, then let it out with a sigh. Braids hung around her face and her skin sparkled in the moonlight. At times she was an innocent soul who put life and love above all else. Sometimes she was a warrior with fire in her eyes and a steel resolve. Always his friend, though. Soft smiles or hard eyes, she was always there. His very own goddess. How had he gotten so lucky? A perfect women.

He couldn't believe what he was about to do.

In his chest, his heart began to hum. It stuttered when to took a step towards her and his breath caught. He swallowed hard. Maybe she'd seen this moment already. She swore she didn't look into their future. Swore she lived in the moment when with him. Swore he was the reason she'd learned to take each day as it came, surprises and all. Yet he wondered if sometimes she couldn't help it. It'd be impossible for him to resist a simple little peek.

But she looked up and smiled at him, then narrowed her eyes in question. He stepped towards her and took her hands. Her gaze bore into his. Those gorgeous eyes. The first time he'd looked into her eyes he'd been sure she could read his thoughts. Even then he'd understood she was much more than she said she was. Sharp under that layer of innocence. Smart when she played dumb. It'd frustrated him. Still did when he bumped up to a boundary she wouldn't or couldn't cross.

An enigma, wrapped in a riddle, with a tail in the middle he'd once said. His riddle. One he'd never solve, but he hoped he'd have a lifetime to try.

"I love you," he said. Those were the easy words. The ones he said at least a half-a-dozen times a day.

She blinked. Her brow knitted. "I love you, too."

A low buzz of conversation hung in the air as people filtered into the gardens, yet they remained alone. No other sounds. Not even the rustling of leaves. He breathed in the perfume of roses and the freshness of snow. Tried to calm his heart and formulate words into proper sentences. This wasn't the time to let everything tumble out of his mouth in a thoughtless rush. He could make an idiot of himself any other night.

"I never thought I could love someone as much as I love you. Never thought I'd find anyone willing to put up with me for more than a couple nights, much less six months. I don't know how you do it. I'm kind of loud, and really messy…"

She laughed and it reflected in her eyes. The moon and stars were in them too.

"I'm doing this all wrong." He took a deep breath and she laughed again, gentler this time. More uncertain. She really didn't have a clue what he was on about, did she? That made two of them.

Okay. Maybe it was best to just get on with it. No preamble. He imagined the most romantic movie he could think of and reached into his pocket. As he pulled out the small box he'd stashed in their earlier he knelt down. The ground was icy. He hadn't thought that one through when he planned this out. It's not like he'd ever proposed to anyone before. At least not when sober enough to remember. Thank God for whiskey though. Without it, he might have grounded this plan before launch.

"What I want to say and am failing miserably at is, Trance, will you marry me?" Oh God. It was out there. The ring too, shining in the moonlight. He couldn't see her face. "I know marriage is a human thing and I have no idea what your customs are and I can't believe I didn't ask before I bought a ring—"

She knelt down in front of him, laughter in her eyes and a wide smile on a face framed by burgundy braids. She placed her hand on his wrist and guided his hand down so that he held the ring between them. A simple band of gold with a golden jewel in the center that sparkled as much as her. He'd chosen it because it reminded him of the radiance she carried everywhere. Had cost a pretty penny too, but some things were worth it.

"Yes."

One simple word. It crystallized between them, like their breath in the cold air.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

She'd said yes.

Holy crap!

She'd said yes.

He placed the ring box in her right hand and closed her fingers around it while he removed his gloves, then with shaking hands, he took the glove from her left hand. He tried to still them as she watched him with a look she often graced him with. Half wonder, half amusement, and damn if he didn't want to see that look every single day of his life.

Okay, now to do this without dropping the ring on the icy ground. He fumbled the box out of her hand again, took a deep breath and stilled his hands before he picked up the tiny little band. It was so small and delicate. Why was he so nervous? She'd already said yes. He slipped it on her finger, grateful for Andromeda's discreet help in sizing it. Where would he be without the amazing women in his life?

Definitely not here in the capitol city of the Commonwealth with his _fiancee._ He had _fiancee_. A woman who wanted to stay with him for the rest of his life.

Holy crap!

A whoop escaped into the air. He grabbed her by the waist and twirled her around and then kissed her, all to the music of her laughter, the best music he'd heard all night.

"I can't believe you said yes," he said, and kissed her. Her lips and cheeks were icy as she returned the kiss, but it warmed him still.

She laughed. "Why wouldn't I?"

When no words came, he kissed her again. In the background came a crackle and a boom. The world lit up in a blinding flash of blue and red. Trance pulled away, her eyes on the sky, and that innocent look of wonder on her face. The one that made her look like a kid at an amusement park, only she brought it out for all of the beautiful things in the Universe. God he loved that look. Loved her. Loved this whole damn universe and all of the things in it that made her smile.

"I always thought there should be fireworks when we kissed," he said with a wink, and she laughed again. He took her hand and rubbed his fingers over the smooth metal of the engagement ring. Then he pulled a couple of single serve bottles of champagne from his jacket pocket and popped them open by the light of another volley. He held up his. "Here's to another New Year. I have a feeling it's gonna be better than the last one."

She clanked her bottle against his. "Here's to another new beginning and the surprising paths our lives can take if we just let them go."


	4. Tyr

Humans were strange, confusing creatures. Before Andromeda, Tyr had paid them little mind. They were everywhere, yes. Loud and erratic. Sometimes prideful, boorish, and greedy which made them easy to exploit. Other times they were out to infect the Tri Galaxies with their collectivist beliefs that strength came from an archaic notion of community where self-sacrifice and loyalty were considered desirable traits—glad to make themselves martyrs for unrealistic ideals. Those humans would succumb to their own sentimentality eventually.

Nietzscheans were immune. They believed that you had to wrest power from the uncaring universe. In his life before whatever _this_ was, humans had been insignificant and only useful when he needed to advance his own agenda. Now it was hard not to notice them and not just because he lived on the Andromeda.

Before him, Tri Gemma spoke to the crowd while the sulfurous smoke from the fireworks lingered in the air around her.

"…to thank you for your service. We are stronger together. This Commonwealth, our Commonwealth, is the final defense against the darkness to come. If we continue…"

He tuned her out. Peace. Unity. Diplomacy. Hadn't they learned their lesson three hundred years ago?

Yet, there was a part of him that believed. Dylan had proved himself time and time again to have great tactical instincts and even stronger survival skills. He pitted himself against the hostile universe and bent it to his will. That man had gathered together a crew of criminals and deviants and built all this with scraps and sheer tenacity? It was very Nietzschean of them, even if he didn't always agree with the basic tenants of the Commonwealth.

Out of the crowd he picked up Harper's voice and Trance's beside it, both moving closer. He turned his head to see them weaving through the crowd towards the Senate building, Harper's arm wrapped around Trance's slim waist. He could make out their discussion as they moved closer.

"Think they still have the food out?" Harper asked.

Trance laughed. "How are you still hungry?"

"Oh, and some of that lager from earlier."

"If you have any more alcohol you aren't going to be able to walk. You're cut off."

"Spoilsport. Why did I even ask you…"

They moved out of range of Tyr's hearing and eventually the crowd hid them from his sight as well. Harper, too, had remarkable survival instincts and intelligence for a human. Tyr had dismissed him as weak when they first met. Hardly a threat. That had been a mistake. The Dragons had raised him well and through their brutality taught him the truth of this Universe. It was unfortunate he'd had to live under their reign, but it had hardened his instincts.

Yet the boy, for all his potential, ran on emotion. He fought when he ought to abstain; risked himself when he should seek safety; and threw himself at and loved with reckless abandon any woman who paid attention to him. Like this foolishness with Trance. The love was mutual, clearly, but with procreation out of the question Harper's intelligence, quick wit, and fast reflexes would die with him. He'd lose the chance at a sort-of immortality, and for what? Smiles and kisses? A warm body in the bed next to him?

 _Passion, Tyr. Love too._

He grunted, turned, and pushed his way through the crowd. People stepped out of his way to make a path as they often did. He needed to get away from these people and their noise and smells. This worthless gathering where they patted each other on the back for a job well done and spouted out overly optimistic dreams for the future. The uncaring Universe didn't care about their dreams and aspirations. It cared about strength, and while it was impressive they'd come so far so fast, if they didn't grow stronger, the Commonwealth would crumble like a castle of sand under the waves of Magog to come.

No. There was more to it. All of these platitudes.

 _Passion. Love._

Beka.

The feel of her in his arms. The taste and smell of her. It lingered.

A calm mind was a strong mind—rational and logical. She'd cast his thoughts into disarray and they wouldn't fall in line again. Passion and love, they were human considerations. He'd lived among humans too long. His duty to himself, his long-dead pride, and to his son was to build himself up and bide time until he could seize power. Until he could build an empire in his son's name and gift it to that perfect child. _His_ perfect child.

More and more he wondered what it would be like to rule that empire beside Beka. It was foolishness in the same vein as Harper's. Beka wasn't a woman to be held down by duty and family. She was a fighter with an almost Nietzschean soul but she wasn't Nietzschean.

His feet carried him through a maze of hallways with plush carpets and wood paneling. Passed evenly spaced rows of office doors. Faceless bots polished the wood, while others dragged carts of soiled plated and cups towards a door at the other end. Tyr wrinkled his nose at the stench. There were cameras lining the halls, he noted, counting them as he went. It wasn't often that civilians and contractors were afforded such access to the Capitol building. The Commonwealth trusted to easily. He could already see a half-a-dozen ways to infiltrate the building and take this fledgling society to its knees.

At least those plans, though it wasn't in his best interest to enact them, kept his mind off Beka. For a time. There'd been such a challenge in her eyes. It pulled taut the invisible string between them, drew him in. Her will, sharp and shining like a blade. Was that why he desired her more than he had ever desired another woman? How did she hold so much power and self-possession, even in moments of weakness?

The cold hit as he exited through a side door onto a stone pathway lined with barren, snow-covered trees. It wound its way through a wide, white field of snow with trails of footprints in all directions. He set out towards guest housing, a lavish hotel meant to impress political guests. He'd rather have returned to Andromeda, but Dylan was clear that they would accept the hospitality of the Senate and Triumvirate. Tyr didn't like it. Dylan and his honor. So different from Nietzschean honor. If they'd made any political enemies this was the perfect opportunity for someone to do something about the Andromeda and her crew. Though unlikely, he preferred not to risk it.

Inside the well-appointed lobby, people in dresses and suits lingered in small groups, chatting in soft voices. He stood just inside the door and ignored the nervous looks of the other patrons.

"Mr. Anasazi, is there anything I can help you with?" the maitre-d, a dark-haired young man with nervous eyes, asked as he approached.

"No."

The boy's eyes widened and he swallowed heavily before he smoothed his expression again. "Let me know if anything comes up."

Tyr brushed passed, towards the elevators. He pressed his palm to the security console and entered the floor number. The doors slid open and he stepped inside. It carried him up five floors and deposited him in an empty hall. Not surprising, since the Andromeda crew had been given the floor to themselves. He strained his ears, but either the soundproofing in the walls was effective, or the rest of the crew had yet to return.

 _You know where to find me._

Halfway down the hall, he stopped and studied the door in front of him. A door the same as every other door save for what laid behind it. This was folly. Human sentimentality. There was no future down this path.

 _You know where to find me._

He knocked twice. Heavy knocks that reverberated down the hall. The lock disengaged with a click and buzz of electricity. The door opened.

Beka had changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top. Her hair, damp and perfumed with shampoo, clung to her forehead. Her gaze moved over him and she raised an eyebrow. He traced the outline of her muscles with his eyes as she studied him. A heat that had nothing to do with wine warmed his stomach and spread through his limbs. Her chest rose and fell. He met her eyes again and there was a small smile on her lips.

"You came." There was a hint of disbelief in her voice. Rightfully so, because even he couldn't say why he was there.

He didn't wait for an invitation. He scooped her into his arms and crushed her lips with his. Pulled her body against his, reveled in the feel of her muscles rippling beneath his palms. The warmth of her skin, still hot from her shower. He breathed her in. The clean scent of soap mixed her unique odor.

The door shut behind them. His eyes adjusted to the low light and took in her beauty. He'd wanted this for so long now. Wanted her. She returned his kiss in kind, her hands traveling, digging in. She fought him. Asserted herself and her desire. Made him want her more with each breath she released against his mouth.

Passion and love. Human things. This went against everything he'd ever been taught. Yet, he could not deny her, or himself, any longer.


	5. Trance

The fireplace crackled. Trance knelt before it with her hands folded on her lap watching the flames flicker and dance. Sparks floated up the flue like they wished to escape and join with the stars that burned in the sky above. She let her eyes fall out of focus and all the colors blended together. Today marked the passage of another year. It was a strange thing, this time—the measurement of minutes, hours, days, and years. She still struggled sometimes to know not where she was, but _when_ she was. Had she drifted into the future, or in a moment of reflection slipped into the past? Most of her existence had been timeless. Time wasn't a linear thing, like a plot on a map, but an ever-shifting ever-changing thing. A tree with deep roots and branches that ever grew, ever stretched and ever shifted. It took a conscious effort to remain bound within the human perception of the Universe.

At first, she'd done it out of duty and necessity. Maybe a small amount of curiosity. She was a curious being by nature—always looking for a new way to experience life. Harper once asked her what immortality was like. She didn't have the heart to tell him how boring and dull everything seemed after a while. There was nothing new in the grand scheme of things. History repeated itself over and over with different faces in different places but always, _always_ the same story. Now she lived that story, and from this perspective, it was one full of tastes and smells; of beauty and wonder; and of life and love. No word existed to describe how wondrous it was.

Footsteps pulled her from her thoughts. Two sets, both measured, but one set heavier than the other. Dylan and Rommie. She blinked the fireplace back into focus again just as the lounge door cracked open, allowing a cone of white light to spill into the dimness of the space. Trance glanced over her shoulder.

"Are you sure you don't want a room?" Dylan asked as his form and Rommie's blocked out the light again.

"I will be alright. I don't need to sleep and have no need for privacy."

Trance smiled and stood. Dylan started, then smiled too.

"Trance, I didn't expect anyone this late. I hope we're not interrupting?"

Trance shook her head. "No, you aren't. I expected Rommie. Though, I am glad to see you had a good time."

Dark circles stretched beneath Dylan's eyes, which, given the hour, wasn't a surprise. He was relaxed, though, and happy. Free for once of the weight of the Universe he carried on his back. Perhaps even reassured by the celebration tonight that his efforts weren't in vain.

Moments like these would be important when times grew tough again. She'd seen in her visions the multitudes of struggles to come and dangers that awaited. They had each other, their hope, and their faith. It would be enough. It had to be enough. He had come so far in such a short time. She'd pulled the strings, but he'd made it happen as she always knew he would. Dylan didn't believe in destiny or fate. He believed you made your own future and if the ending wasn't desirable, you could create your own ending. His force of personality and eternal optimism had infected even her. She rubbed the ring on her left hand. Life was better and far more fun when you believed in more than one perfect possible future.

"Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but I am _exhausted_. Goodnight ladies."

"Goodnight," Trance said.

"Goodnight, Captain."

Dylan left and the door shut behind him.

Trance stood and moved to a plush, floral armchair and curled her legs, now clothed in soft pajama pants, beneath her as Rommie stepped further into the room. "Computer, turn lights to forty-percent."

The lounge was a cozy space somewhere between a library and a breakfast nook and offered guests on this floor a place to gather together for meals or entertainment if they desired. One wall sported floor to ceiling bookshelves heavy with old-fashioned paper books with colorful covers. In the back, a table large enough for the entire crew stood alongside a counter stocked with fresh fruit, snacks, and drinks. A couch and a couple of armchairs surrounded a wide, stone fireplace. Above it a large viewscreen flashed the Commonwealth emblem, waiting for their commands. On the mantle sat a timeline in picture frames of Tarazed's history.

Rommie stopped in front of the first photograph, an image of Dylan's Sara, the woman who'd founded this world so in three-hundred years Dylan might find a stronghold of the old Commonwealth. She reached out a finger and touched the frame, lips pursed.

"Has Dylan seen this?" Rommie asked.

Trance shook her head. "I don't think he's been in her long enough to have a look around. It's amazing, isn't it? She did this all for him."

"Love seems to be a powerful motivator." Rommie turned her back to the mantle and took a seat at the chair beside Trance. She nodded at Trance's hand. "Something you would be more qualified to speak to than me. I see that you've acquired a new piece of jewelry. Congratulations."

A smile spread across Trance's face unrestrained. Bubbles popped in her stomach, each one releasing a sense that for the present everything was as it should be. Like a puzzle after the last piece has clicked, or an oil painting once the final flourish has been added. Even the dark and frightening things she'd seen in possible futures were less terrifying because the light inside, fueled by the love she held for Harper and her friends, burned so brightly. Rommie was almost correct. Love wasn't just a powerful motivator. It was _the_ most powerful motivator. Hadn't she changed the carefully laid plans of the stars themselves for a chance at love?

Best not to linger on that.

"Thank you. It took me by surprise, he never said a thing."

"You didn't see it coming?" Rommie asked, her eyebrow raised and Trance laughed.

"Not at all." She held her hand out in front of her and studied the ring. In the firelight, it appeared to have a bit of flame illuminating it from the inside. Outside, under the flash of fireworks, she'd toasted to the paths their lives could take if only they let them. "Six months ago, I made a promise not to look into the future where Harper and I were concerned. Sometimes I can't help it, but I've kept my promise as much as I could."

"Is it difficult to live in a way not conducive to—for the lack of a better phrase—your programming?"

"No, it isn't easy. But—" she paused and considered her words. Life, in many ways, had been better since she made the decision. Different. She loved the chaos of surprises and the joy that flowed like a fountain when Harper caught her off guard as he had tonight. This was why a star, a being of energy and fire, dreamed herself to life. Not to save the Universe, but to experience it—pain, inconvenience, sorrow, pleasure, and all. "It is worth the struggle. Were you programmed to love us, Rommie?"

Rommie's eyes narrowed and her brows turned downward the way they did when she was presented with a problem she couldn't immediately solve.

"No. I was programmed to be concerned for the safety of my crew and to protect life first and foremost."

"But you love us still. That must be difficult."

After a moment of silence, Rommie nodded. "I think I see what you mean."

"Now," Trance said, sensing it was time to change the subject, "Harper is sound asleep and I have a couple more hours before I need to do the same. Did you want to ring in the New Year with a game of cards? I think I saw a deck on one of the bookshelves."

* * *

Trance slipped into the room she shared with Harper hours later. He slept curled up on his side, face smashed into the pillow, one foot sticking out of from under the blanket. The blanket, too, had ridden down, leaving his shoulders and chest bare. He didn't move as she crept into the dark room with practiced stealth. Skills she'd once used to remove precious gemstones from protected museum exhibits she now used to prepare for bed while her lover slept. Peaceful tonight, his breaths coming in steady and deep. She left her bathrobe draped over the desk chair and crossed the room. It amazed her how still he could be. How his frenetic energy calmed for eight hours a night—when he let himself sleep for eight hours.

First, she straightened the blankets, pulled them back over his foot and up to his neck, then she slipped in beside him. It was her bedtime routine, and it didn't matter that they were planetside instead of on Andromeda. She only needed a fraction of the sleep Harper did. Only a few hours. Enough to heal her body from the daily stresses of organic life and give her a chance to quiet and refresh her mind. It made bedtime with someone who needed more sleep difficult. So she rested beside him each night as he fell asleep, often deep in meditation and got up again to tend to her plants or spend time with Rommie and Beka. When sleepiness finally found her, she climbed in beside him so they might wake together.

He liked to wake up beside her and she liked to see him happy.

Harper stirred and snuggled up to her. Wrapped an arm around her torso and drew her closer to his blanket-warmed skin. She snuggled in, comfortable under the weight of his arm.

"I love you," he muttered, words slurred together in a combination of sleep and leftover alcohol. His breath tickled her neck.

"I love you too," she said, though she suspected he couldn't hear, and closed her eyes.

Sleep usually came easily once she settled into bed, but tonight it danced away. In the morning, the sun would rise on another new year, and tonight she finally understood the hope organics felt when the numbers on the calendar flipped. So many new beginnings, so many new possibilities. The anticipation excited her, sped up her heart. It was tempting to take a peek and see what the next 366 days held for them.

A cute little sniffle of a snore brought her back to her room, the bed she shared, and the feel of Harper beside her. The present. Tomorrow was a gift. A new life with Harper as his fiancee. It was best not to open it quite yet.


	6. Rommie

It was always strange to be away from Andromeda. A part of herself was both missing and missed. Though Rommie sensed her mainframe in orbit above, there was latency and distance that didn't exist when they were together. Maybe this was homesickness or loneliness. It was hard to tell and as an Android, she had no one to ask. She hadn't been alone most of the night and time didn't pass for her the same it did for her organic crew. Probably not even the way it passed for Trance. She could cycle down into standby until needed again, and in lieu of that, there was always something to calculate, read, or ponder.

Even so, it was a relief when the chronometer clicked over to 1015 hours and time to order food and prepare a late breakfast for the crew. If she had a single purpose beyond war, it was this: to care for, protect, and comfort her crew. Trance, and even Beka sometimes, hesitated to ask for simple things or otherwise impose on her. She didn't mind. She enjoyed planning and logistics.

Dylan was the first to arrive, as she expected. He moved into the room comfortably, his shoulders loose and a soft smile on his face. He'd dressed in a loose blue tunic and plain slacks. His holster was nowhere to be seen. Rommie smiled at the sight of him. Ships and captains often had strong relationships but they had something unusual. A closeness that confused organics, as she'd seen last night. They'd survived so much together. He was all she had. Both her protector and protected. Her best friend. Her family.

"Ah, good morning Rommie. Did you have a good night?"

"It was uneventful." She crossed over to the coffee carafe and poured a steaming mug and carried to him. "Trance kept me company for a couple of hours before she, too, needed to sleep. Did you sleep well?"

"Very well." Dylan took the mug and breathed in the scent before taking a sip. "Just what I needed." He took another drink. "Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year," she replied.

If Dylan were here, the others would be soon. She set about uncovering and setting platters of food out on the table. Without a word, Dylan set his cup down at the head of the lounge's long glass table and helped. Breakfast was on the Commonwealth's dime, so she'd ordered something to please every taste. Fresh breakfast meats for Harper and Tyr. Pastries to satisfy Trance and Beka's sweet teeth. Vedran fruits and vegetables rescued and cultivated on this world for over three-hundred years. A tiny taste of home for him. Chiberries, his favorite, were almost out of season, but she'd managed to procure some along with their juice, a staple at most Vedran celebrations.

"This is nice," Dylan said as he surveyed the room as he hadn't had time to last night. He moved towards the fireplace and she stopped to watch, wary. The framed photograph of Sara found its way into his hand and he studied it with head bowed and shoulders hunched. They rose and fell a few times and then he put the photograph back on the mantle. With one finger, he caressed his long-dead fiancee's face, then turned back to Rommie, smile a bit more strained.

"It's hard to believe we've done it. We've re-established the Commonwealth."

"We have," she said and tried to judge how best to continue.

Last night and this morning were a reminder of all they'd lost. In the beginning, every day had been a reminder. She hadn't been able to protect her crew from betrayal. She'd been denied the opportunity to fight for her Commonwealth. To join with her brothers and sisters as the final line of defense against the night as she'd sworn to do.

Odd how perspectives changed. If she'd been there she would have perished under Nietzschean fire like so many of her siblings. Her presence alone never would have swayed the war, though at first, she'd believed she could have saved them all. The Commonwealth's weakness had come from within. From lack of preparedness and political mistake. Hubris, most of all. A sin she was guilty of and had almost carried on.

If she'd been there, she wouldn't be here. Harper never would have given her a body. Dylan would be dead. No peace. No order. No civilization. She never would have experienced true friendship and love. As Trance had pointed out last night, she'd never been programmed to love. She'd learned so much, yet—

That was what Dylan needed to hear.

"There is still much to be done."

He nodded, the smile stretched again. "That there is."

Dylan needed a mission.

"Do I smell bacon?" Harper asked as he burst through the door with Trance by his side. The tension snapped. Harper crossed the room in a few bounds. "Morning, Romdoll. Dylan. This is quite a spread."

"Morning," Trance echoed as she meandered into the room and took a moment to admire the sunlit view of the snowy Senate campus outside the window. "Happy New Year."

When Harper made a beeline for the food, Trance quickened her pace and slapped his hand out of the way.

"Wait for the others. Don't be rude."

"Fine, fine. I'll get some coffee, but I'll have you know, I'm _starving_."

Humans and their hyperbole. Harper, more than anyone, knew what starving was. There was little risk he'd waste away and die, but she accepted after all these years he was simply prone to exaggeration.

He didn't have to wait long. The doors opened again to admit Beka and Tyr together. Their body language had changed overnight. They stood a little too close and when their eyes met, they communicated something indecipherable in the way organics sometimes did. Dylan, too, seemed to notice. Though the smile remained, he studied them as they walked in. There was something familiar about this.

Rommie raised an eyebrow and then cast a glance over to the table where Harper pulled out a chair for Trance, then sat down beside her, his entire focus on her for that brief moment. Of course. Dylan's mouth fell open as he, too, must have come to the same conclusion.

"Good morning," Dylan said finally, breaking up a silence that had begun to grow awkward.

"Morning, got any coffee?" Beka asked while Tyr remained silent. Beka did look tired and Rommie chose not to dwell on why that might be. When one provided home and shelter for over four thousand souls, one learned to ignore a great many things.

"Coffee and breakfast are already here," Rommie replied.

"Great."

Beka and Tyr crossed over to the counter and helped themselves to coffee before they each took a seat, Beka beside Trance. Smiles of greeting all around, and a few polite nods from Tyr. She took her seat at the table beside Dylan just in time to see Beka narrow her eyes and snatch Trance's left hand as Trance reached for her goblet of sparkling chiberry juice.

"No way!" Beka studied the ring with wide eyes then looked over to Harper. "Last night?"

They had everyone's attention now. Harper had turned a pleasant shade of red, yet his smile stretched wide, and Rommie was happy for him. Dylan stood and rounded the table. He placed a hand on each Trance and Harper's shoulders and they looked up to him. She'd been programmed to detect even the slightest changes in body language and to read the emotions of her crew in a variety of different ways. She read joy here, and pride. Dylan squeezed their shoulders.

"Congratulations. I'm happy for both of you." Then he let go and as he passed Beka and Tyr, he looked to each of them and gave Beka a smile and a wink.

"It looks like we have a lot to celebrate. How about before we begin, we have a toast?"

Rommie took that as her cue and quickly passed goblets of chiberry juice to those who didn't have any. Tyr raised an eyebrow as she approached. Beka raised both her brows to Tyr and gave a nod towards the glass Rommie had proffered. He hesitated, eyes on Beka, then took a glass. The smile Beka shot Rommie couldn't be anything but satisfied. Dylan had once explained to her that relationships involved push and pull. This one was going to involve quite a bit of that. Today, Beka pushed. What would tomorrow bring?

When she returned to her seat, her own glass in hand—though she couldn't drink it—Dylan held his up.

"New Years is a time for new beginnings. Three-years-ago I thought you were stealing my ship and you thought the Commonwealth was gone."

Tyr tried to look bored, though his eyes didn't waver from Dylan's face. Trance watched with a soft smile and Harper leaned back as he took in Dylan's words. Beka nodded along beside them.

"We've accomplished more than I ever thought possible. We've not only come together as a crew but as a family. Some of us have even found love." Here he gave a nod towards Trance and Harper, and a sideways glance to Beka and Tyr. "We've survived impossible odds, and brought hope back to the known worlds. We've lit a candle in this dark night so others might find their way."

Dylan paused and once again looked over his crew. He met Rommie's eyes and smile.

"Today is a New Year. A time of celebration and reflection. I know the coming year will bring with it many challenges, though some of us probably know better than others."

Trance smiled and gave him a nod, he head tilted coyly to the side.

"But I know no matter what life throws at us, we can survive it. Together." He raised his glass. "To new beginnings."

"To new beginnings," the others echoed.

Then they fell into conversation interspersed with "please pass the bacon" and "can I get the muffins over there". Rommie sat back and watched. Before she had a body, when the Commonwealth was thousands of years old and life seemed like it would continue peacefully forever, she'd had a crew. Now, four-thousand had become six, herself included. She'd lost a crew and gained a family. Lost a society and gained a purpose. She picked up her goblet and swirled the liquid.

To new beginnings, friendship, and love.


End file.
